Ozone
by Michelle H. C. Zhu
Summary: Primo was an egotistical, overbearing jerk who reinforced your label as his tool at every chance he got. Still you follow him. [Placido, Tag Force protagonist AKA "Hat Guy", TF5-verse]


**Day 0**

Nobody in the right mind would ever call you 'passive', not you—the iron-willed boy who hides his strength beneath the rim of his hat. You, who would act as a human shield to any face of danger that threatened your friends. You play so many roles: a mentor, a comrade, a brother, and a friend.

You aren't quite sure how you ended up in this role.

You vividly recall how you first entered into this partnership. It was the day after you parted ways with Vizor when you laid eyes on that man standing underneath a tree. It had been in the afternoon, because you recall the sun seeping into the leaves of the tree and casting a cracked umbrella of gold over his white hood.

That man. Primo. Him in his ghost-white robes and high heel boots, a sword dangling from his waist…

You don't even know what to make of him.

"Oh, it's you," he says, surveying you critically with his single blood-red eye.

For whatever reason, you ask Primo to be your partner. Maybe it was because Jack was in a bad mood that week, Crow and Leo were both always busy with something or the other and Yusei had pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Fine with me. I'll lend you a hand."

And that's how it all began.

* * *

_**Part I**_

_When I'm asked, "What kind of relationship do we share?"_

_I say, "We're more than just friends,"_

_But that's not quite right either…_

* * *

**Day 2**

Primo is, by far, the strangest tag partner you have ever had.

As if the spacey moon costume didn't already nudge a hint, you learn that Primo is not from this world.

You spend the whole Friday afternoon dueling and taking verbal abuse until dinner time. Like you do with your other friends, you take Primo to Café la Geen and order the special of the day. Unfortunately, Primo doesn't enjoy it. Knowing how dangerous it is for mankind to live on a planet inhabited by an unhappy Primo, you try to satisfy his hunger with something else. You offer him a hamburger, an item you bought from the vending machine earlier that day.

Instead of growing angry like you had expected, Primo gives you a sad look instead. His piercing crimson eyes soften beneath the hood.

"The food of your world is ill-suited to my palate," he says.

You offer him a cookie.

He just stares at you with that same mournful look.

You offer him a rice ball.

Snarling, he slaps it out of your hands and threatens to hack you in half.

You dig through your backpack and realize the only thing you have left are some strawberries in a plastic baggie. Hesitantly, you ask Primo if he wants them.

Immediately, he looks like you just punched him in the gut.

"How did you know what I like?" Primo demands, his eye wide in shock and his facial expression a perfect replica of the deer in headlights look.

You don't.

You're damn_ surprised_ you aren't staring at the sharp end of his sword right now.

Primo takes the fruit from you with all the tenderness of holding a newborn and gingerly picks out a perfectly-shaped strawberry from the batch. Holding it by the stem, he bites into the juicy flesh, leaving a trail of pink to drip down his chin. You hold back a smile. The entire sequence is very, _very _amusing to watch.

"I thought you didn't like food from this world," you say, still trying to wrap your head around the whole distinction between 'your world' and 'my world'.

"Not everything. It's true I'm disgusted by most of this world's food, but… there are certain exceptions. For one, it's not that the coffee of this world is undrinkable, at least if I make it."

You remember Akiza once mentioning something about bringing over a yummy pot of coffee to your place. You want to suggest the same thing to Primo here, but dismiss it as a futile attempt.

Suddenly overcome by curiosity, you ask him where he is from. The look Primo gives you suggests that you won't be getting an answer at all, but then he wipes his mouth and says,

"I'm from the same world as you. I'm just from the future."

… ah.

Well.

Doesn't that just open a door of questions?

* * *

**Day 4  
**

You're beginning to think that Sherry Leblanc has a crush on you (maybe) because she gives you a stuffed toy seagull as a token of her feelings.

"This is to show how I feel about you. Will you accept?"

Her face is dead serious as she hands over the gift, and she looks you squarely in the eye as you stammer out a thanks—

(you really_ don't know _what to make of this because it's not like she's smiling_—and why in the world _would she give you a _**stuffed toy seagull **_of all things to show her _love?_)

—but the woman runs off before you can form a coherent question, most likely because Primo is shooting occipital daggers at her from behind your shoulder. You've learned the full extent of his jealousy after only four days of being his partner. Or perhaps it isn't jealousy. Maybe he's just a closet misogynist.

In any case, you decide to store away the seagull with the rest of your items. You unzip your bulging backpack only to have junk spill out and tumble to the ground in a mess. Food, clothing, duel monster figurines…

There's an aggravated sigh from behind you, and a slight glance backwards tells you that Primo is tapping his foot and glaring at you with his single eye.

"Fool… Hurry and clean it up."

There's too much in your backpack and it doesn't look like Sherry's gift is even going to fit unless you get rid something else to make room. An idea suddenly strikes you. What better way to get rid of junk than to unload it on other people?

As it would be decidedly creepy to discover that Primo liked… Dark Magician Girl figurines… or something, you opt on giving him a neutral object. Rooting around the bottom of the bag, you pull up a bandanna and offer it to Primo, mentally bracing yourself the inevitable backlash that was bound to follow.

Primo smirks.

"Well, now… Who'd of thought you'd have such good taste?"

You sorta just_ stare _at him.

He looks mighty pleased as he inspects the slate grey bandanna. "I'll try it on when I get back home," he mutters and stows it away.

In spite of yourself, an image of a bandanna-clad Primo worms its way into your mind. You have no idea what Primo's haircut looks like underneath that nun hood he always parades around, but sometimes you like to imagine that he has a Mohawk. You envision his Mohawk poking holes through the fabric of bandana and find yourself chuckling at the thought. Primo spies the smile playing on your lips and growls.

"Wipe that foolish grin off your face this instant," he demands, "And hurry up. I don't have all day to waste with your idling!"

* * *

**Day 5  
**

Sometimes, you don't know what Primo actually_ wants_ from you.

"Hmm, you are a source of entertainment for me," he tells you.

You stare at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches. "What's with you, boy? Do something entertaining, will you?"

You wonder if he wants you to pop out a unicycle and start juggling rubber balls on top of it. At the risk of having another death threat thrown in your face, you actually decide to take his request seriously.

You think back to your reservoir of jokes. Crow and Leo were your two biggest fans when it came to stand-up comedy; anything you told them made them laugh. Both Akiza and Luna liked romantic comedy, Sherry liked romantic comedy with added _implications,_ and you were able to draw out chuckles from Kalin with subtle humor. Yusei was generally one for clean jokes, Jack would go for anything witty… and Vizor?

You just told Vizor whatever felt right. He always understood, too.

But Primo was not everybody else. Somehow, you get the impression he'd be bored with lighthearted humor and vulgar, adult jokes would just leave him glaring and threatening to behead you. You try to think of a joke that would _suit his palate_. His very distinct, one-of-a-kind palate.

"I'm sure you know of Helen Keller, right?" you say, "Imagine if you told her a very important secret. What would you do to make sure she'd keep your secret?"

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. "…?"

"Break her fingers."

Primo chuckles maliciously, and you can see the malevolence glimmering in his eyes. "That was a masterpiece!"

You smile, glad that you were able to fill his daily quota of sadism. On the other hand, you damn hope Primo's done for the day with wanting 'entertainment' because you don't know any more dark jokes that don't involve sex.

* * *

**Day 7**

Sherry is _hot_ and kind of a bitch, but you like her nonetheless because she is _awesome_. By 'like', you mean you like her as a friend. By 'awesome', you mean she's really strong-willed and kickass and a super cool turbo duelist.

But even though Sherry is this awesome, strong, hot friend-bitch-thing, it doesn't stop you from wondering if she's been keeping secrets from you this entire time. For one: does she have a previous history with Primo that you've just not been told about?

Having decided to partner up with the French lady today, you make your usual daily rounds to see all your friends and check up on how they're doing. (And possibly get loads of free stuff, but that's another story entirely.) As usual, Sherry is rather apathetic towards most of your friends, which makes sense—she didn't really know them that well or anything—but never with any of your friends have you felt such waves of hostility radiate from Sherry's being as the occasions when you visit Primo.

Yes, Primo was a bit strange-looking—he wore a hood that resembled a nun's veil. And thigh-high stiletto boots, which was…_ unusual_ for a man. And he may have been an asshole on some level as well. But surely all of that wasn't enough to justify the unrestrained contempt that Sherry expressed towards him.

"What an unsightly scene," you hear her growl as the two of you approach Primo.

Sherry stays behind you the entire time you're talking to Primo and just glares at him through the nook between your shoulder and head, which Primo responds to by glaring straight back, and if you didn't know better you'd think the two of them were sending alpha-wave emissions from their eyes in hopes of killing the other with radiation poisoning.

You've only scraped surface with Sherry's vengeful motivations and barely touched Primo's even more mysterious background—but nevertheless, you get this feeling that their respective issues and inflated self-importance wouldn't be able to fit in the same 50-feet radius.

… time for an intervention.

You bring up a conversation topic all three of you have in common: card games.

It's funny that you the topic bring up, 'cause even though Primo has been your tag duel partner several times already, you haven't seen him duel that much. Instead of doing anything himself, he prefers to watch you participate in the fun and then measure your worth based on the record of your winning streak in a children's card game.

Because of this, you have only managed to catch a few glimpses of Primo's deck in action. You've deduced it to be some machine… robot… deck… thing with some sort of… fusion strategy. (… you think.) It's sorta worrying that you've never once seen him summon a Synchro monster – or perhaps the fact that he doesn't even _have_ an extra deck to begin with, and you ask him why—

"Synchro Summons and the like make my flesh crawl!" he growls, glaring at Sherry as if she held the sole liability of possessing every Synchro monster in the world.

… well, that explains it.

"Really? Even though they're so useful?" you ask, thinking about all the Synchros in your extra deck.

Primo's single eye refocuses on you and he breaks into a grin. "I have a Machine Emperor, even without relying on any Synchro Summons! Why don't I show you?"

Happy for a chance to have a friendly duel with your good pal Primo, you accept his challenge and throw down some cards right there.

Of course, Sherry nearly bursts into peals of laughter when Primo draws his sword and splits open the hilt to reveal a green sheet of fluorescent light which he slaps down his first monster on. Yes. The moon man even refused to conform to the standard duel disk and instead decided to have one built into his… sword.

You're not bothered by it or anything. You've seen it happen before. You actually thought it was pretty cool the first time Primo showed it to you. But still… with a pretty girl watching your every move like a hawk, you feel a slight embarrassment playing a card game with this man.

Oh Primo. Why must you be so needlessly bizarre?

"Let the games begin!"

… … …

"Consider this my greeting."

A slim chance of luck causes Primo to draw his Solidarity spell card at just the _perfect moment_—

—you're staring down a 5,600 attack Wisel Infinity—

—and he steals your Goyo Guardian, _the bastard_—

—and you curse yourself as your life points drop to zero.

"Oh no, I thought I chose the right partner!" is the first thing you hear from Sherry once Primo emerges from the dust as the victor.

No, you tell yourself, you will not shove Sherry face-first into a wall.

Even though the French lady is sulking over your emasculation to a sword-wielding nun, you are **not **a prideful dick like three out of five of your friends are and gracefully accept your defeat like a good sport.

Primo, on the other hand, takes his win as a golden opportunity to establish how much better he is than everybody else.

"Is that the best you can do?"

You smile, shrugging.

"As long as I have my Machine Emperor Wisel Infinity, no one can beat me, no matter the duel!"

You laugh and agree with him, because it's the proper thing to do.

"That's right. Just keep on groveling like that."

Primo flashes one of his trademark shit-eating grins, and you manage to stop Sherry before she scorpion-kicks him in the face.

Realizing Sherry is probably going to hate you for all eternity unless you somehow prove yourself in a children's card game, you decide to scrape up whatever is left of your… masculi—_patience_, yes, patience is **definitely** the right word—and challenge Primo to a rematch. Luckily, he accepts, but not without some his usual haughty flair.

"Humph, fine with me. But why bother when you know you're going to lose?"

You just give him a friendly smile and wish him luck as always.

… … …

You kick Primo's ass so hard in the duel you win in only three turns.

_Take that douchenun. _

_**Take that**__._

How dare he make your life complicated. _Gosh_, being partners with Akiza was so much easier than this.

Cue the Sad Eyes. "Don't let it get to your head," Primo mumbles sullenly, before he turns a heel and does some dignified stalking away, apparently refusing to talk to you any longer now that you've trampled his inflated ego into the mud.

Somewhere in the background, Sherry is laughing like a maniac.

* * *

**Day 9**

It doesn't take you long to learn that Sherry Leblanc isn't the only person who hates Primo. Everyone of your friends from Luna to Akiza to Crow hates Primo's guts, their reactions to your partnership with him ranging from disappointment to flat-out disgust to sheer unadulterated anger.

Your life is made _exceedingly complicated_ when your duel partner for the day is despised by _every _single one of your friends. It makes it so much harder to deepen your friendship with them—twice as much time, and twice as many gifts you have to give them…um —_effort_. Yeah. That.

You kinda wonder if some malicious god from above has established an umbrella "hate Primo" clause because that would definitely explain the excessive amount of antagonism and negativity that has been expressed towards you when you're partners with the techno-nun.

You yourself don't even know why you like Primo so much, apart from the fact he shows bits and pieces of concern and vulnerability around you. Other than that, he treats you like his lapdog, constantly insulting your every action and demanding that you cater to his whims.

Carly is one of the few people who doesn't hold a monumental grudge against Primo and you're so grateful for a momentary reprise that you decide to partner up with her for the day.

Carly is just the opposite of Sherry. Whereas Sherry is this strong, sophisticated, and slightly insane femme fatale—Carly is kind of a derp.

Upon seeing her, the first thing she does is let out a dramatic sob. "So much complex work. I'm so busy!"

You smile a bit. "Why don't you take a break for a while?"

"You can never get too many scoops!"

"You've been working really hard lately," you comment.

Carly grins and pumps her fist in the air. "You got that right! I'm on fire! The more scoops, the more bonuses I can get!"

You ask her what's motivating her.

Immediately, her face flushes with embarrassment. "I really want to get married. I've already met my soul mate, so…"

You take a wild stab in the dark and guess that it's Jack.

Eventually, Carly drags you along to find more dirt for her big scoop. She needs to learn more stuff about the new directors of the public security bureau. Halfway through her chattering, you realize—hey, isn't one of the directors…

Oh, yeah. That's right. You remember Primo mentioning that he holds one of the positions.

Always happy to help out a friend, you tell Carly you know where she can find information about the directors and she follows your lead. After a bit of walking around, you spot the white-robed moon man lounging in the distance and veer towards him with Carly tagging along at your heels.

You greet Primo with your usual friendliness.

Primo looks at Carly and then looks back at you._ Harmless_, you read his facial expression, and you're grateful, because you're tired of getting jealous gazes and hateful scowls whenever he sees you with someone else.

"What's the big idea, bringing Carly Carmine here?" he demands.

You inwardly sigh.

"You know who I am?" she exclaims.

"Humph. The Clueless Clown mentioned somebody fitting your description. You're that reporter, correct?"

"Wow, I'm famous!"

Primo growls.

"Hey, if you know Lazar, then you must work for the public security bureau too. I'm a reporter for the Daily Duel."

Carly goes into full throttle reporter mode and begins bombarding Primo with questions. Something among the lines of oh _god oh god oh god Primo is going to skewer her like a shish kabob_ runs frantically through your head.

"That boy over there. The one with the roller-blades," Primo suddenly says, jerking his chin in the direction of an odd kid clad in white. "He knows a great deal about the directors. I believe he's their… protégé. Go bother him instead."

Because she's blinded by her love for Jack, Carly doesn't even see the possibility that Primo might be lying to her and dashes over to the munchkin dressed so similarly to Primo, except with a shower curtain surrounding him. You make no move to stop Carly (it's not like you could run that quickly anyway) but keep watch on her from the corner of your eye in case trouble arises.

Thank god Primo didn't kill her_ thatwouldhavebeenterrible_.

"Annoying pest," Primo mutters.

The two of you are alone now and he seems slightly more comfortable than before. It's normally easy for you to strike up conversation with other people, but you're slightly wary around Primo. He's such a mercurial person, completely unpredictable with his moods, and you don't want to offend him.

"What, the length of my hood bothers you?" he suddenly asks, eying you with a critical gaze.

You momentarily startle, wondering why the hell Primo would bring up such a random subject, before realizing that you've been staring at him like an idiot for the past minute.

"No, it's just the right length," you reply quickly.

For some reason, he's pleased with this answer. Pleased enough to break out into a maddening grin. "Of course, it is. I have rationally thought out every last detail!"

You reply with a wall of ellipses. You think he's crazy, but…

Primo lays back and sighs, one hand clutching the base of his scabbard for… comfort? Reassurance?

"Boy. You're thinking about what is to come, aren't you?"

His somberness takes you aback and you find yourself at a loss for words for a brief moment.

"No," you say truthfully, "It takes everything I've got, just living in the here and now."

And it's true. You rarely think about the future. For some reason, you always have an ominous feeling about it.

A beat.

"Hmmm…" Primo closes his eyes. "That sounds right. But just remember: no regrets."

It's a touching set of words from a man who feels the need to establish his supreme dominance over your existence by threatening to behead you every other encounter. You wonder what skeletons are in his closet.

"Just you watch, boy. I will change the future, you'll see."

The determination in Primo's voice is admirable, and even though you don't understand everything he's talking about, you feel inclined to encourage him.

"With that kind of willpower, you'll be able to overcome any obstacles," you say earnestly.

Primo chuckles maliciously. "Heh heh heh… Yes, that's exactly it!"

You're once again taken aback by his sudden show of malevolence, but can't help but smile. Primo really is an odd one.

The two of you talk a little longer before Carly hurries back, all huffing and puffing and waving around her notepad in a frenzy. The rollerblading, shower curtain-encased midget is nowhere in sight. Apparently, she chased him away.

"Hey! That kid just ran away before I could get my scoop! C'mon, we have to chase after him!"

Carly grabs your hand and hauls you off before you have a chance to protest. Primo watches you leave with a rather indifferent expression and you wonder if he actually ever cares about you.

* * *

**Day 13**

Sometime around mid-week, you find yourself in the satellite sector, only to be pulled away by the sad melody of the harmonica. It's Kalin.

"Oh, good timing. I'll join you. You don't mind, do you?" He flashes you a smile that could be blown off his face by a stiff breeze.

It has been eons since you last saw him and you are past overjoyed.

You somehow manage to persuade Kalin to _get his ass out of Crash Town_ and accompany you to the downtown plaza for ice cream. After much persuasion, the two of you head over to Neo Domino City. As you're talking about his Infernity monsters, you hear the sound of approaching footsteps—and then you're stopped by a flash of white.

In all his domineering glory, with his waistcoat billowing around him like bed sheets, is Primo.

"Here, it's for you—charity for the poor."

He looks distinctly unconcerned as he fishes into his robes and slips you a booster pack. He won't even look at you; his eyes are closed. H

You sorta just stare at Primo dumbly as he quickly turns a heel and strides away without another word.

Something among the lines of _'free cards fuck the hell yes'_ runs through your head as you tear open the package and fumble through the cards with numb fingers. Your excitement fades a bit when you scan through several Gem Knight monsters, you don't really need another Sangan, although… ah… you've been looking for a Common Charity for some time now and… was that a _Mirror Force_?

You recall all the DP you spent at the store trying to pull one of these babies,

and how that dumb geezer in the striped beanie just sneered at you whenever you purchased a pack,

and for a single moment,

you kinda just love Primo.

(_THANK YOU GOD FOR THE MIRROR FORCE_.)

"Did that nun just give you cards?" Kalin asks expressionlessly, having watched the entire scene without comment.

You try to remember the Kalin that _wasn't_ programmed with only one emotion, the one that wasn't a Dark Signer either… the one that was kinda normal. The good ol' Enforcers Kalin with his bright smile and radiant enthusiasm. The one who talked about brothers, looking out for your bros, and team spirit.

Holding onto that dear memory, you face the anti-social suicidal Kalin with a surprising amount of optimism. To cheer him up, you suggest bringing back some ice cream for Nico and West too.

He deadpans you for a few more responses, before finally giving you a faint smile.

"I forgot how much they mean to me. Thanks for reminding me."

Kalin says that you are the greatest partner ever, and you're happy.

* * *

**Day 14**

Nico apparently is allergic to strawberry ice cream and Sherry is _le busy_ ze the next day, so you decide to pay a visit to Yusei instead. You haven't seen him for a while—not since you last tag-dueled against him and Jack that one time you were partners Vizor. You wonder how Yusei is doing.

You find Zora sweeping in front of Poppo Time as usual, and she informs you that Yusei isn't home. The old lady slips you 200 DP ("I found it when I was cleaning the plaza") and then directs you to the junkyard in the Satellite sector.

You spend the rest of the afternoon probing around the junkyard in hopes of stumbling upon Yusei in some garage or alleyway with a wrench in hand and his crab-hair slick with motor oil, probably in the middle of tuning up an old motorcycle or rewiring a toaster to be malevolent or something. The sky is dark when you finally give up your search.

Yusei is not there.

Dejected, you head home. Somewhere on your route back to Daedalus Bridge, you encounter a large factory. You remember Yusei telling you about this factory. It was private owned, supposedly. Fences barricade it from three sides. Everything about the premises screams industrial to you.

You're about to leave when you happen to spot Primo out of the corner of your eye.

Primo.

Wait. What…? What was he doing here?

You are surprised. You've never seen him do so much as step foot inside the Satellite sector, so to actually find him here of all places—at an old factory burrowed in the depths of the junk and decay—is unusual. He is staring intently through the wire fence barricading the factory. He's calculating.

There's something different about him, but you can't seem to put a finger on it. As you watch Primo from the distance, you notice there's something almost… ethereal about him; his white robes glowing in the dark blue night gave him a ghost-like ambiance. As if drawn in by Primo's presence, you begin walking towards him without even thinking about it.

At the sound of your footsteps, Primo swiftly turns around. Recognition flashes across his face, and he relaxes.

"What?" Despite the curt demand, his tone is not… angry.

Relieved that Primo isn't holding a grudge, you strike up small talk with him. He doesn't ask you why you're here, and you're grateful because you know how jealous Primo could get and telling him you were looking for Yusei was just_ asking_ for an ass-whupping.

For conversational purposes, you ask if he knows what is in factory.

"Humph, I wouldn't go too far in there if I were you," Primo replies, looking away.

Not. Suspicious. At. All.

You suddenly realize how dark it has gotten and urge him to go home. Because you're a genuinely kind person who cares about the well-being of your friends, you even offer to accompany him home, never mind the hooded man was probably older than you by a handful of years.

Primo looks at you like you're mad.

You patiently explain to him that a lot of people have been randomly attacked by "Ghosts" (it was the term Yusei used to describe them, dumb as it sounded) and forced into duels that conducted real pain damage and that it wasn't safe to be out alone in the dark wandering around suspicious industrial areas.

Throughout your entire explanation, you are pinned underneath Primo's intensely neutral stare.

"Actually, I'm the one controlling the Ghosts," he says flatly.

A beat.

… … … um.

_Oh._

Okay.

… … _what._

You were not expecting this. How the hell do you react to being told the figurative equivalent of "I'm a raging psychopath"?

Suddenly, you've never felt more terrified in your life.

"What a feat. It must have taken a lot of planning," you say, choosing your words carefully.

The look Primo gives you is flippant. "I'm hardly looking for adulation from you."

You're surprised by his response. You haven't known Primo for that long, but even a complete stranger can spot his egoistical tendencies within five seconds of their first meeting. The fact Primo _isn't_ goading this time indicated that the Ghosts were only a small piece to a much bigger scheme.

"What do you plan on achieving with this?"

"It would be better for you if you didn't know too much," he says, looking away, "But if you must know, the energy gathered from dueling the Ghosts will complete the infinity circuit."

You want to ask him what the heck is an 'infinity circuit'. But Primo has already revealed to you that he is essentially a _psychopath _and you don't want to push your luck, knowing how impatient this man was.

"Though at the moment, it seems there are still not enough Ghosts to form the circuit."

Was he asking you a question?

You are quiet, thinking. "No, I think there should be just the right number," you finally reply.

He closes his eyes as if sensing your worry. "Humph… Relax, boy. You may still prove useful. I'll keep you around for now."

You blink, bewildered by his unusual choice of words. This was the first time you ever heard Primo speak like that. Never before did you have a friend who defined you in terms of 'usefulness'.

While you are staring at him like an idiot, he takes that as a cue to leave. Primo draws his sword and does the oddest thing: he slices at the air. You're not sure what you were expecting to happen, but you definitely didn't expect to see a sphere of light emerging from thin air.

"What are you gawking at? It's a portal."

His nonchalance is the final nail in the coffin. What he said back then about coming from the future… he wasn't lying. Primo really _is_ from the future.

"Farewell. Maybe we'll meet again."

Primo steps into the portal and disappears, leaving you alone in the smog-filled darkness.

* * *

**Day 17 (stirrings of a ghost)**

One morning not so long after that peculiar encounter with Primo, you wake up to the call of a very familiar-sounding voice.

"Get up."

You stir slightly, unsure of whether you're dreaming or if birds have magically learned the gift of human speech overnight.

"You had better get up, boy."

You muster up enough willpower to open your eyes. A blinding white instantly fills your vision, and you know it's not from the paint on the ceiling. The white comes from the clothing of a man in your room.

Wait. What.

A man?

There is a man in your room.

There is a _strange_ man in your room.

… okay.

_First of all_—it's not the fact there's a strange, creepy man looming over your pajama-clad body that bothers you. Actually, you're more than used to this sort of thing by now. You've had a dozen other guests spontaneously appear in your room to greet you while you were in bed; you don't know _where_ or _how_ they discovered the means to repeatedly break through your locked door or why they don't just follow social protocol and _knock_—

—hell, Sherry even snuck in the middle of the night and slept on your couch till morning—

—but no. It's cool. Spontaneously-appearing guests are totally cool. That's not what bothers you. This man could be a raging pedophile for all you know but that's alright. You could probably take him on.

So what really bothers you is _not_ the fact this stranger may or may not be a child-raping serial killer… but the fact that this man has the most bizarre hair-style you have ever laid eyes upon. It's a massive mound of gray and silver in a shape very much resembling the peaks of a soft-serve ice cream cone or a tower of whipped cream.

The man himself radiates a vague familiarity, but you can't seem to put a name with the face. You feel like you know this man from somewhere before, but his hair just kills any recollection your sleepy mind manages to scrape up.

"The day has finally come when you can be of use to Yliaster by offering up your strength," you hear the stranger say.

You yawn, vaguely starting to wonder if this guy is an overenthusiastic missionary or something. Yliaster sounds like the name of a religious cult.

"… Humph, you aren't fully awake yet." The man's neutrality dissolves into an irate scowl. "I said I'm giving you a job, so get it in gear!"

He punctuates his point by slapping the wall and you startle slightly, trying to focus your vision on him. The man pins you down with an intense glare, but most of the intensity slips right through like a breeze blowing through a sail that has been tacked on too loosely. You rub your eyes and very politely ask the completely and entirely necessary question—

"Who are you?"

He stares at you in shock for several seconds.

"… … _What do you mean who am I_? Don't play stupid with me. Are you not quite right in the head?" he finally chokes out, before easing into an angry growl. "Don't tell me you've forgotten the face of Primo of the Three Emperors of Yliaster!"

You blink. Wait, what? Huh? Primo?

Wait.

_Waiiiiit._

Now you're confused. Why didn't you recognize him earlier?

A pause.

… oh, that's _right_. This is the first time you've seen Primo without his hood. What a surprise! So this is what Primo looked like underneath his nun veil? Never in a million years would you have imagined his hairstyle to be so… ice cream.

Having gotten over the shock that this stranger is, in fact, Primo, you kindly ask him to explain what this 'Yliaster' thing is.

"Yliaster has controlled history since ancient times. We are a divine organization that guides foolish humans to the correct path of evolution. You should be honored that we are going to use you at the vanguard of our plans."

You nod slightly. You're not really sure what Primo is talking about, but it sure sounds impressive enough. You decide to feel honored.

"I have an urgent task for you. Quit your blithering and quietly follow me!"

With that, Primo turns a heel and struts out the door with his waistcoat billowing dramatically after him in slow-mo akin to a scene from a movie. You're too awed to move for a moment before you snap back to reality.

You grab your red hat hanging from the bedpost and slip it on, quickly trotting after Primo.

… … …

You follow Primo to the Security building.

"The circuit will never be complete at the rate things are going. We'll need more Ghosts to speed up the plan."

Ah, so he wasn't just kidding about the number of Ghosts thing the other day. You feel slightly guilty.

"Would you like to know what use Yliaster has for the Public Security Bureau? There's a prototype known as a 'Duel Bot' in the lab just ahead. It's a robot that was developed under the pretext of cracking down on… Duel Runner violations. But, in a sense, it's a puppet just like you."

A jolt of uneasiness runs through you. Did he just call you a puppet?

"Your task is to take it and deliver it to a secret factory in Satellite sector. I could do it instantly, but it's a precise machine and I want to avoid damaging the AI."

Something about what Primo said doesn't sit right with you and it takes you a few moments to realize what is.

"Why don't you just teleport us into the lab?" you ask, recalling the portal he slashed open that night. It looked much more convenient and quicker.

Primo stops and looks at you, his single eye widening momentarily before a tinge of sadness rises to the surface.

"I told you, I want to avoid the risk of causing damage." He sees your look. "Yes, to your brain."

Your heart instantly melts at his concern. As oddly phrased as it may have been, Primo's words undoubtedly showed his care for your safety.

"Don't worry. I'm a Director of the Public Security Bureau, even if it's only in name. This building also pretty much serves as our headquarters. Few people know this. Follow me quietly so no one questions us and causes trouble."

… … …

Mina has taken you inside Sector Security H.Q. on several occasions, but you have never been to the laboratory in there. It's like something out of a sci-fi movie; you arrive at a warehouse-sized room filled with all sorts of high-tech machinery. It's like you're inside a huge spaceship or something.

Seeing all of this stuff, you are overcome by a strange sense of nostalgia.

The Ghost is a mechanical android scrapheap thrown together to look like a bald guy in a leather motorcycle gang jacket. Primo examines him (it?) with all the scrutiny of a physician.

"Yes, this is the prototype we're after," he says after a few minutes of close inspection. "Unfortunately, it's not ready for Turbo Duels yet. But it will be handy for Standing Duels once I install its new program. I'll take this, remodel it and mass produce it."

His expression turns reflective, and you can see the undertones of self-satisfaction.

"You know, a tool's usefulness can really be seen when it's employed by the right owner."

… there it is again. Tool. Puppet. You feel uncomfortable. What was up with Primo? Was there some important part of him that he hid from you? Did he have some kind of marionette fetish you were unaware of?

"What will you mass produce it for?" you ask in an attempt to hide your discomfort.

Primo shoots you a look, as if he just remembered that you were standing there. He closes his eye.

"Ha, that's not something you need to know. You just need to follow my orders and take the prototype to the secret factory."

You start to nod, but he's not done talking.

"Then you'll be a guinea pig," he says as malicious grin spreads across his face. "You'll act like a dueling machine and be its opponent. This will continue until the mass production is perfect or you break down." A cold hand grabs your wrist and then you're staring up at a cruel, terrifying expression that you never knew Primo was even capable of making. "And, just so you know, you cannot refuse."

… you… _what?_

Did he…

… until you _break_… _down_…

… … … … … … ah.

A hundred-thousand ellipses wouldn't even begin to describe what you are feeling right now.

You should be furious, you should be indignant, you should feel betrayed and used—and yet… in the face of his leering grin, you realize that you don't feel an ounce of negativity. You can only feel gratitude towards Primo, rather than spite or hatred. In your eyes, Primo has presented you with a challenge and you are certain that you can live up to his expectations. You feel no fear, no doubt. Only… satisfaction.

The feeling is… familiar.

"Hey! You two! What are you doing over there?" somebody shouts from out of the blue.

You blink, having been snapped out of your trance. Quick-paced footsteps draw closer and Primo lets go of your wrist, turning around to greet the unexpected visitor. It's a cop.

"… unbelievable," Primo mutters, stunned. "I gave orders that Sector Security wasn't supposed to come around here." A dark growl. "Lazar… That Clueless Clown must have messed it up!"

"You guys look suspicious," the cop says, "What are you muttering about over there?"

Before you have a chance to come with an explanation, a second pair of footsteps makes their way over here. From the shadows emerges a tall, brawly man with a security jacket slung over his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Dean?" the man questions the cop.

"Trudge, sir! There are suspicious people here! As you can see, they look very fishy!"

Trudge's coal-black eyes rest on you. "Right, they clearly are…"

By now, you're internally freaking out.

"_Shut up_."

You aren't the only person to be taken aback by Primo's unexpected show of authority. You turn to look at him in shock, and out of the corner of your eye you can make out Trudge's flabbergasted expression.

"What?" he stutters.

"Shut up, you ignorant cogs," Primo repeats, barely skirting a glance in their direction. "I can't be bothered to explain everything to scum like you."

… Primo?

The cop named Dean looks indignant. "You! You know you're up against Sector Security, don't you?"

Ignoring the securities, Primo turns to face you. "Boy. It's been a while since I've seen you duel. Show me you haven't gotten rusty."

Whoa. _What._

That is completely unexpected. One moment, you're freaking out over getting caught red-handed for grand larceny, the next… you're going to be playing a children's card game?

Primo takes your silence as a sign of acceptance. "It will be a Tag Duel then. Time to dispose of this trash."

"Huh, are you sure that's what you want?" Trudge shouts, still clearly trying to wrap his head around the direction this whole situation has gone towards.

You watch Trudge's coal-black eyes bulge when Primo draws his sword—and that nails it: Trudge swerves to his partner, shouting out the last-minute order, "Dean, give it all you've got! These guys aren't just regular anybodies!"

"Got it, sir!"

The sword splits in half, and Primo prepares for the duel with a surprising amount of vigor. "Here we go, boy. Let's see what you can do!"

You nod.

From the ground, two symmetrical circles of light encase the four of you.

… … …

You were not expecting this duel.

"What is this? I feel damage from the duel as actual pain?" Trudge yells, wincing, his cards falling from his grip.

Primo's face is confronted with a maddening, almost feral expression. "Ha ha, interesting system, no? Let the pain and fear inscribe themselves deep in your heart." His insane grin eases into a dark look. "But I will go ahead and erase your memories of this."

"_Primo!_" you find yourself shouting as his eyepatch starts to light up.

You didn't intervene fast enough. Groans fill the air and you watch, stunned, as Trudge and Dean both abruptly drop to the ground as if knocked out by invisible hammers.

Primo turns to you, his expression neutral. "…what's wrong?"

You just shake your head, unable to come up with the words.

Probably not the best response. Primo is impatient by nature and he doesn't take well to passive-aggressive noncompliance.

"What? Do you suggest they retain their memories?" he snarls, "Do you have any idea how much it would interfere with my plans if they were to report what they saw here tonight?"

It was almost a daily occurrence for you to be at the receiving end of Primo's vitoril, but this time it's different.

You don't know how to respond so you just look away, your eyes hidden under the lid of your hat.

At least… at least Trudge and Dean weren't gone for good. They were only unconscious with a short rewind of memory. This wasn't anything you haven't seen before. You've dealt with much worse before.

You know it's wrong to judge a person's intentions or sort them into the 'good' and 'evil' bins. You always knew that.

That's why you had so many friends. You were able to get along with everybody because they know you would never judge them in the way so many others would. You knew that Kalin was suicidal—and you _helped _him try to find ways to end his life in a duel. Carly had been a Dark Signer. Akiza sent dozens of opponents to the hospital with her psychic powers. But you never judged them.

So you tell yourself: _As long as Primo doesn't seriously injure anyone, I'm okay with what he does._

You feel a bit guilty for roughing up Trudge like that (ohh, Mina is going to do some fretting over him) but he was a big hunk of man weighing 200 something pounds. You figure he could easily deal with a few scratches and cuts.

"Heh, worms. This level of duel, while a Tag Duel, is far from being able to raise the circuit," you hear Primo say and you raise your head to catch a glimpse of the closed-eye Primo in a state of contemplation. He's strategizing. "Of course, without Crimson Dragon Signers for opponents, it seems to be of no use."

He looks at the ghost, calculating.

"But having the prototype fight Signers is still asking too much…" You see a glint of decisiveness in Primo's single eye as he rounds to you. "All right, boy. The plan has changed. You may go back for today. I'll add one or two more functions to the prototype before it is mass produced. I'll have that Clueless Clown take it to the secret factory. He'll pay for his error physically!"

He steals a glance at ghost again.

"He he he, at any rate, this will soon be as useful as you are." Suddenly, you feel that cold hand on your skin once again. Primo grabs your chin and jerks your head so that he can survey you like picking a cow for slaughter. "You should work as hard as you can for me so that I won't discard you when that happens. He he he…"

Primo lets out a few more chuckles before letting you go, sweeping past you.

You hear the shirk of his sword being drawn and the clicking of his boots as he steps into the portal, but you don't allow yourself to move until the Emperor is long gone and you're alone with the bodies of two men. Two men who had suffered physical pain in what was supposed to be a recreational card game and then got knocked out cold by the mysterious powers of a moonman in white.

You take out your PDA and notify the bureau of the unconscious securities.

That pang of discomfort has risen within you again, but this time, you can't seem to suppress it. The feeling just lingers there and then slowly spreads to the rest of your body, from your chest to the tips of your fingers, amassing like a cancerous tumor.

Discard…?

You swallow.

_Primo…_


End file.
